Sugar And Spice (Holidays: Valentine)

by Charlotte French

  After dinner, Crissy moved to start washing her dishes when Quinn took her plate from her and put it in the sink.

  “We can do dishes later,” he said, kissing the side of her neck.

  “That sounds like you have something else in mind,” she said, slipping two fingers into the waistband of his pants and tugging him closer.

  “Probably,” he said, smiling against her skin. “I made a promise.”

  She pulled back, confused. “What? To who?”

  “Amy.”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “She made me promise to distract you as much as possible while she was away.”

  “You know, I’m okay now, right?”

  He brushed his thumb over her chin, studying her for a moment.

  “Yes,” he said after a while. “You’ve handled this nightmare extremely well, all things considered.”

  “Sure doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

  He took her hands and interlaced their fingers together. “That shop was your whole life and you were back on your feet, looking for jobs within only a week or two.”

  “It helps to keep moving. Keep doing things.”

  He nodded. “But it still hurts a bit, doesn’t it?”

  Crissy hesitated and said nothing. She didn’t like talking about it, didn’t like putting it into words even though it still replayed in her head over and over, especially at night. She didn’t smell the smoke anymore. Quinn always held her so impossibly close, the only thing she could smell was him, the spice of his soap and the familiar comfort of cinnamon. But sometimes the flames crept into her dreams still.

  “Crissy,” Quinn said softly, pulling her from her thoughts.

  She raised her gaze to meet his.

  “I don’t mean to push you,” he said. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I know it gets tiring after a while. All I’m saying is that you’re doing so good, even if you don’t see it. Amy sees it. I see it.”

  “But the two of you are still watching me too closely. Like I’ll fall apart at the drop of a hat.”

  “We’re just concerned for you. Amy said she likes seeing you distracted.” He paused and pressed his forehead to hers. “And maybe I like distracting you.”

  She closed her eyes and smiled slightly. She still missed her shop. She supposed a small part of her always would. It had been her first home, her first kitchen, her first dream that came so close to coming true. She would be okay, after a little while more. She was picking herself back up again, dusting herself off, piecing her life and her dreams back together and she would be okay eventually. But for now, with the warmth of Quinn’s skin at her fingertips and the soft, familiar smell of him all around her…she wouldn’t turn down the comfort he offered.

  “Better not let Amy down then,” Crissy said. “You know what will happen if she finds out you’ve been slacking.”

  “I’d be a dead man.”

  “So distract me.”

  He started to pull her towards the bedroom but she didn’t move and pulled him back.

  “No,” she said. “Right here.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Here? In the…kitchen?”

  “Yes,” she said without a flicker of hesitation.

  “But I thought it was your number one rule? No sex in the kitchen. I remember that. I don’t want to get in trouble here.”

  She laughed softly and pulled him in to kiss him hard, nipping at his bottom lip.

  “You’re not going to get in trouble,” she said. “I want this.”

  He still looked a little confused and worried. “But…”

  “I’m starting over, Quinn,” she said. “Piecing things together again as best I can. Maybe a few of my old rules got lost along the way too. Time to make some new ones.”

  He studied her for a moment. She tipped her chin up and nudged at his earlobe with her nose before she kissed the curve of his throat.

  “Unless you’re having second thoughts,” she whispered.

  In response, Quinn picked her up and set her on the counter. He swept the dirty dishes into the sink as he crowded into the space between her knees. His hands settled on her hips as she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer, closing her eyes at the sinful glide of his tongue against hers.

  Quinn was always gentle with her, touching her like she was fragile and delicate, like he couldn’t believe she was beneath his hands. But this time Crissy craved more. She kissed him harder, more demanding than she ever had before, aching with desperation and the need to forget everything for a while, just for a few blissful minutes. She needed him to mark her, to leave her skin buzzing and her body empty until she couldn’t think of anything else except the lingering feel of him on her.

  As Quinn kissed along her jawline, Crissy’s fingers dipped down to unzip his fly and wrapped around his thick cock with a mercilessly tight squeeze. He gasped a small, breathless curse and Crissy smiled as his fingers bit into her hip. She stroked the full length of him, once, twice, agonizingly slow, torturing him in the best way possible. And when she brushed her thumb over the head of his cock at just the right angle, just the right sweet spot, he cursed again, sharper and more explosive this time, thrusting up into her palm. His fingers came around the back of her neck, his thumb resting at the hollow beneath ear.

  “Jesus Christ, Crissy,” he breathed. “Slow down.”

  “No,” she said, playfully sinking her teeth into his shoulder. “Not distracting me enough.”

  He didn’t hesitate for a second before he was tugging her pants and underwear off, kissing along each new sliver of skin he uncovered. He barely brushed his lips over the inside of her knee, sending shivers rippling over her skin as he slowly advanced upward. He kissed the softness of her thigh as he hooked her knees over his shoulders.

  Crissy’s head tipped back as Quinn’s mouth closed over her clit, his tongue working in long, slow strokes, returning the sweet torture she had inflicted on him earlier. She pressed her heels into his back and tangled her fingers into his hair with a tug that drew a small sound of pleased surprise from him. Her knees tightened against his head as white hot heat curled through her nerves with every dip and slide of Quinn’s tongue.

  Quinn hooked one hand over the top of her thigh as he slid too fingers into her and curled upwards at just the right angle to leave her shaking. Her knees tightened around his head as he coaxed her to the edge, trembling.

  Then he stopped and she couldn’t stop the groan of disappointment.

  “You’re cruel,” she rasped.

  He chuckled softly as he kissed his way up her body, pausing only long enough to retrieve a condom from his pocket and slide it on. He curled an arm around her waist and pulled her a little closer to the edge of the counter. The weight of his cock pressed to the inside of her thigh as his arm came around her shoulders, cradling the back of her head. Even when he was matching her aching need, her rough biting kisses and the demanding press of her fingertips on every inch of skin she could reach, he was still careful with her, mindful that she didn’t get hurt.

  Then he slid into her, slowly, inch by inch, until his hips were flush with hers. Crissy gasped as she pressed her face to his shoulder. Neither one of them moved for several seconds, their ragged breathing the only sound in the silence. After nearly a full minute, Quinn pulled out and pushed back in with a long, slow, deep thrust that turned Crissy to putty in his arms.

  He kissed the curve of her throat and shoulder. “Distracted yet?” he whispered.

  “God, yes,” she whimpered.

  Quinn pushed into her again and again, agonizingly slowly and deep, and each time, a shivery, barely there curse fell from Crissy’s lips.

  “Harder,” she mumbled against his shoulder, the salt of his skin on her lips.

  When he didn’t respond right away, her hand slipped into his pants and her fingers bit into his ass, demanding more. He snapped his hips up into her automatically then hesitated for a moment. He pull
ed back just far enough to look at her, gauging her reaction, when she kissed him in answer to his unspoken question, open mouthed and hungry.

  Quinn pounded into her after that, his hands and mouth everywhere he could reach, crushing her against him. Crissy hooked an arm around his shoulders, her fingers knotted in his hair and she forgot the rest of the world. Everything was only Quinn, the slide of his skin, the heady feel of him inside her that she could never get enough of, the taste of his kisses she would always be starved for.

  Then she felt Quinn’s hips start to stutter. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and he thrust into her hard one last time, surging into her as deep as he possibly could at the same time one hand drifted over her clit.

  And Crissy was gone.

  When she finally came down, shuddering in Quinn’s arms, she felt him kissing her, every inch of her, soft and gentle and sweet. Her entire body felt loose and warm and she couldn’t believe she had held back from this, from him, ever before.

  Distantly, Crissy heard the muffled sound of her phone ringing. But she didn’t move. Still spaced out and hazy.

  “That’s probably Amy,” Quinn said between kisses. “You should get that. See that she made it safely.”

  Crissy smiled, slow and content, as she slid her hand along Quinn’s cheek and pulled him up to her for one more searing kiss.

  “I’ll let her know you’re off the hook too,” she said. “You’re distracting me just fine.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Crissy was so sure the second she stopped baking, she’d be sick with nerves. She didn’t sleep a wink and by the time the clock hit six in the morning, she was up and moving, clothes already folded and packed. She threw herself into making cinnamon waffles for breakfast but when those were done, she switched to profiteroles and when those were done too, she moved on to raspberry tarts with a lemon custard.

  This was it. She was finally going to her sister’s wedding.

  Quinn stumbled into the kitchen a little after eight, scrubbing his hands over his face as he wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed the back of her head.

  “Did you sleep at all last night?” he asked, his voice rough with lingering sleep.

  She didn’t stop as she carefully formed the tart dough into the pan. “Not tired,” she said.

  “Liar,” he sighed. “You’re nervous about today.”

  Crissy said nothing and kept working, kept moving.

  “Crissy, can you look at me for a minute, please?” Quinn asked softly.

  He took her hand even though her fingers were sticky and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

  “Talk to me,” he said. “Tell me what’s runnin’ around in your head.”

  Her heart skipped up her throat at his quiet, gentle tone and she stepped towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “You are very important to me,” she said, “and I don’t want to see you hurt. Whatever happens today, I don’t want you to think…”

  “Hey, hey,” he said, pulling back to cup her face in his hands. “No matter what happens at this wedding, it won’t change how I feel about you, okay? I’d like to make a good impression with your family, of course I would. But if your family doesn’t like me, too bad. All I care about is what you think of me.”

  She closed her eyes and turned her head to kiss his palm.

  “Part of me wishes you would chicken out and stay home,” she said.

  “Never going to happen, sweetheart.”

  “I know. And I’m glad you’re going with me.”

  He smiled and brushed his thumb over her chin.

  “Better now?” he asked.

  She nodded and took in a shaky breath. “Still a little nervous though.”

  “I think that’s perfectly normal,” he said, kissing her forehead. Then he snatched a profiterole from the table and backed up to the bedroom. “Leaving in an hour?”

  “Just as soon as I get the kitchen cleaned up.”

  She turned back to the raspberry tarts on the counter.

  “Hey,” Quinn said, poking his head out of the bedroom.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “Love you, sweetheart,” he said then ducked back into the bedroom.

  Crissy smiled to herself as she finished the tarts. Maybe today would go better than she expected.

  ***

  The drive to Denver didn’t take nearly as long as Crissy had hoped it would and before she knew it, her mother’s three story house was looming in front of her, massive and expensive and intimidating. As soon as Quinn pulled into the driveway, Crissy wished she could turn and run the other way. But Quinn took her fingers in his and kissed the back of her hand with a smile.

  “It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” he said. “No matter what.”

  There were already a few guests parked along the paved horseshoe driveway, all expensive cars, shined to a slick sheen. After Quinn had parked, Crissy forced herself to pull away from him and climb out of the truck on her own side. But as soon as she was at Quinn’s side again, she fumbled for his hand and he squeezed hers in return.

  “I knew I had to break out my tux,” Quinn said, “but I wasn’t aware I should have dusted off my non-existent Aston Martin too.”

  Crissy tugged his arm closer and leaned her cheek against his shoulder.

  “It’ll be okay, Quinn,” she said quietly. “No matter what, remember?”

  He glanced down at her and she smiled up at him. He shook his head, his eyes sparking with a playful tease.

  “I’d better be careful what I say around you if you’re going to be repeating me to me,” he said.

  Together, they approached her mother’s front door and hesitated for a moment before knocking. Crissy finally summoned the courage to knock and waited. Footsteps echoed inside, short and clipped and business-like, and Crissy felt herself tensing.

  Here we go…

  “I love you,” Quinn whispered.

  She glanced up at him but before she could reply, the door opened and Andrea breezed out.

  “You came!” she said, kissing Crissy on both cheeks. “I thought you’d never get here, with all the…” She gestured vaguely then seemed to change tactics mid-sentence. “Anyway, come in, come in. Quinn, I’ll have to take Crissy away for a while for last minute dress fittings. But Kenneth is in the study and he’d love some company.”

  “I can show him where the study is first,” Crissy said. She hated the idea of leaving Quinn to fend for himself. She knew he was capable of handling himself but it still itched at her.

  “I’ll figure it out,” he said with a nod and a reassuring smile. “You go on ahead.”

  “But…”

  He squeezed her fingers one last time and kissed her hair. “Go,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear. “I’ll be fine. No matter what, sweetheart.”

  She sighed and finally followed Andrea up the stairs, glancing back to check on Quinn more than once. He stood there, watching her go, and waved before she rounded the corner and he was out of sight.

  “So where’s Mom?” Crissy asked.

  Andrea pulled her to the side of the hallway and lowered her voice. “She’s not here. I asked her to leave.”

  Crissy’s eyebrows shot up. “You…what?”

  “Well, there’s a lot going on and I sent her on some errands for me.”

  Crissy frowned. Andrea wasn’t looking at her, actually avoiding her gaze.

  “Andrea,” Crissy said. “Is there something else you want to tell me?”

  Andrea sighed. “Look. I’m not very good with this so…”

  “Good with what?”

  Andrea gestured helplessly and blew out a breath of frustration. “You know. Paying attention to details.”

  “You’re a lawyer. You get paid to do that.”

  Her chin jutted out slightly in annoyance. “Your little coffee shop. Is it salvageable?”

  “No,” Crissy said. “It’s not. It’s been cleared away.”<
br />
  “Then…” She paused, waiting. “Do you have…plans?”

  “Plans for what? A new job? Rebuilding?”

  Andrea raised one shoulder in a half shrug. “Yes. All of that.”

  This was beyond strange, having Andrea express any kind of concern. Part of Crissy wanted to believe that her sister was genuinely concerned but another part of her was still wary.

  “Why are you asking?” Crissy said.

  “I’m just wondering. You don’t have to get defensive.”

  “I’m not getting defensive. I’d like to know why you suddenly care about my coffee shop when you hated it before.”

  “I didn’t hate it. I didn’t understand what attracted you to it. But I didn’t hate it.”

  Crissy squinted at her. “You never had a good word to say about it when you visited.”

  “Not everyone is perfect, Crissy.”

  Crissy blinked, startled. Andrea had never called her that before. It was always Cristina, with that withering tone of disappointment slipped in on the end, exactly like her mother said it. And Andrea had never, ever admitted to not being perfect in her entire life.

  “Are you okay?” Crissy asked. “You’re acting…weird.”

  “Can’t I show a little concern for my sister?”

  “Of course you can but that hasn’t exactly been the case in the past, has it?”

  Andrea raised an eyebrow. “You’re becoming more outspoken. You used to be so quiet and reserved.”

  “That’s what happens when your life comes down around your ears. You learn to get a little fight in your blood every morning and to keep moving.”

  “Did Amy teach you that? Or was it Quinn?”

  “I figured it out all on my own actually.”

  Andrea studied her for a moment, head tipped to the side, and Crissy could have sworn she saw an appreciative gleam in her eye before she turned and headed down the hallway again.

  “Mother will be out for a few more hours at least. I thought we could get your dress done and out of the way before she gets back.”

  Crissy hurried after and followed Andrea into a massive guest bedroom. Every surface was pure white and gleamed in the sunlight so brightly, Crissy had to squint. On the bed, bridesmaid’s dresses were splayed out in a thousand shades of ruffles and pink. A woman sat on a chair beside the bed, pins clamped between her lips as she carefully stitched along a hemline. Her brown hair was tied back in a tight bun and she wore a crisp black pants suit.